Road Songs
by mynxkittie
Summary: While driving from one Canadian city to the next, travel partners Stacy and Randy laugh, sing, and discuss life.
1. Default Chapter

**Content**: large amounts of lameness, menstruation, relationship talk, berating of musical tastes  
**Characters**: Stacy Keibler, Randy Orton  
**Summary**: While driving from one Canadian city to the next, travel partners Stacy and Randy laugh, sing, and discuss life.  
**Notes**: The songs metioned are: "The Sign" by Ace of Base, "Summer of '69" by Bryan Adams, "Faithfully" by Journey, "The Reason" by Hoobastank, and "Invisible" by Clay Aiken; the movie referenced is the 1989 classic "Say Anything"; to my knowledge, Two-Bite Brownies are sold only in Canada and the PNW, but should you find these in your local grocery store (you lucky, lucky things), try them - you WON'T be disappointed. [**Additional note:** The third chapter shoudl be fixed now, sorry about that! And thanks to everyone who's replied!]

This isn't how she imagined the start of her day.  
  
They had a routine. Wake up at nine, hit the hotel gym at fifteen after, work out for half an hour, shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, pack belongings, check out by noon. From there, they hit the turnpikes and highways that Mapquest said would lead them to the next city, the next hotel, and the next arena.  
  
Being a slave to their routine, it surprised her when a too hard laugh prompted an early return from her monthly visitor.  
  
"Stace? You in there?"  
  
Randy Orton made for an obnoxious travel companion now and then, but she certainly owed him for this.  
  
"Yeah, you got everything?"  
  
"Right here."  
  
Stacy opened the ladies' bathroom door and accepted the gift of a plastic bag containing clean underwear and a newly-purchased box of tampons. When they had pulled up to the rest stop, she hadn't thought about raiding her suitcase or bringing her wallet. It must have been quite a sight for the people already in the building - a six-foot-tall woman managing to race to the nearest bathroom without flashing the goods under her miniskirt or tripping over her high heels.  
  
"I'll be right out," she said, and then scurried into the closest stall.  
  
She hated it when her body wasn't on the same schedule as she was. Usually her period came during her travels - as opposed to her days off - but she didn't mind since she knew more or less when it was going to come and she was always prepared for it. Stacy mused that this minor setback must have been her body's revenge for pigging out on carbs the night before - which was a silly thought, of course, but she needed a silly thought to comfort her as she balled up her ninety-dollar pair of stained lace panties and threw them in the trash.  
  
At least her skirt remained spotless.  
  
When she finally emerged from the bathroom - comfortable, clean, and bag hooked on her forearm - Stacy stood and scanned the area for Randy, finally spotting him in front of a wall of magazines, leafing through what appeared to be a copy of Pro Wrestling Illustrated. "Randy!"  
  
Randy lifted his gaze and nodded as she ambled toward him, snorting once his eyes returned to the magazine in his hand. "Hey, check this out." Randy held up the magazine just so. "Do they love these kinds of shots or what?"  
  
The open pages in question showed an article on Randy's trials and successes, with the picture accompanying it honing in on one of Randy's more noticeable features. Stacy could feel the corners of her mouth twitch and she attempted to smother a giggle. "Well, it does stand out."  
  
"Yeah, but look at the credit." Randy jabbed a finger at the photographer's name. "I don't want -guys- taking these pictures of me."  
  
Stacy scoffed. "I swear, you -would- be the only guy who'd complain about a picture of his crotch."  
  
"Well, hey, I'm not complaining about the size or the angle. Just the person behind the camera."  
  
A roll of the eyes. "Whatever, are you going to buy that or can we get going?"  
  
"Yeah, let's go." Randy replaced the magazine on the shelf and moved forward, managing a few uninterrupted steps before stopping before a display of snacks. "Whoa, wait, they don't sell these where I live." He picked up a bag labeled 'Two-Bite Brownies'. "I think they're a Canadian thing."  
  
Randy opened the bag and Stacy peeked inside. "Oh, I've never seen those before." The brownies were small and moist-looking, shaped like miniature cakes, though it was their intoxicating scent that almost had her salivating. "Ohh, they smell good, too, get another one."  
  
Amused, Randy picked up another bag and headed to the cash register. "You're paying me back."  
  
"Yeah, fine."  
  
The person behind the counter was young, probably a teenager working the summer hours he'd otherwise spend at home. He took one bag and marked it up before the faintest of amused smiles showed up on his face. "I didn't know wrestlers ate junk food."  
  
It wasn't unusual for them to be recognized, but since they had gone virtually undetected for the entire length of their traveling this week, it was somewhat of a shock. Randy reacted sooner than she did, though, leaning on the counter with a grin. "Actually?" He then jerked a thumb at her. "Stacy eats like a pig."  
  
This earned Randy a hard backhand to the shoulder.  
  
"Hey, easy!" They all shared a good laugh as Randy pulled out his wallet, returning his attention to the cashier. "So how much do I owe you, my man?"  
  
"$7.34, sir."  
  
As Randy handed over his credit card, Stacy noticed the cashier's inability to stop smiling. He looked ready to bounce off the walls over the cool wrestlers who came into -his- rest stop, yet conducted himself with the utmost professionalism, which she appreciated. She liked the attention her job brought, but she didn't know if she could handle a mob scene right now.  
  
"So you coming to the show tonight?" Randy asked, and it took Stacy a moment to realize that he wasn't talking to her.  
  
"Oh yeah, I get off at two!" The cashier beamed as he bagged their purchase. "Will you be wrestling tonight?"  
  
Randy smirked. "Against Chris Benoit."  
  
"Awesome!" The credit card machine printed the receipt, which the cashier then handed to Randy, along with his card and a pen. "I'm a big fan of Evolution."  
  
"Well, who isn't?" Randy chuckled and signed his name with a scratchy flourish. "But what about Stacy? Aren't you a fan of hers?"  
  
Stacy perked at the mention of her name, then locked eyes with the cashier, who turned five shades of red before returning his gaze to Randy. "Oh yeah, definitely!" He took the signed receipt and slipped it into the cash register, still smiling. "Thank you and have a nice day!"  
  
Randy grabbed the bag of goodies and smiled back. "Thanks, man, hope you enjoy the show."  
  
"I'm sure I will!"  
  
Stacy waited until they were outside before nudging Randy with her elbow. "You're never this approachable at the arena." She was used to calling it 'the arena', even though it was always a different location. "Looks like you made his day."  
  
"He was a good kid." He shrugged and handed her the keys to their rented SUV. "Besides, the fans waiting outside arenas are usually assholes who sell whatever you signed for them. You know that as well as I do."  
  
"True." Stacy pressed the buttons that unlocked their car and turned off the alarm, then climbed into the driver's side, throwing her stuff into the backseat. "By the way, thanks for doing me that little favor back there."  
  
"What?" Randy closed the door as he realized what she was talking about. "Oh, that." He shrugged again and began to secure his seatbelt. "It's not the first time I've been asked to do something like that. I mean, I have a sister. But aren't women supposed to be regular at your age?"  
  
Stacy sighed as she tugged and snapped on her own seatbelt. "Sometimes it comes when it wants." A thought came to her then, and she giggled. "Is this the same sister with the My Little Ponies?"  
  
She tried not to laugh at Randy's reaction - his leveled gaze and pursed lips were indication enough that she had brought up something he would like to forget - but she enjoyed teasing him about it too much to let it slide. "Well?"  
  
"Don't start."  
  
"C'mon!" Stacy snickered as she pulled out of the rest stop and onto the road. "I can just imagine you playing with little pink horses and--"  
  
"You gave birth to a picture of Shawn Stasiak."  
  
"…fine, consider us even."  
  
He always got her with the Stasiak picture. How she hated that.


	2. Part 2

They spent the first minutes of their ride in companionable silence, an open bag of brownies between them and emptying fast. Stacy felt as if she had a piece of heaven in her mouth, they tasted so good. She made a mental note to stockpile on them before heading back to the States.  
  
"Which reminds me," she thought aloud, and she reached behind and felt around her for her purse. "How much do I owe you for the brownies and tampons?"  
  
Randy paused in midbite, then waved a careless hand. "Don't worry about it."  
  
"Huh? You sure?"  
  
"It's chump change, Stace." He slouched in his seat; if he had a visor on, Stacy could imagine him pulling it down over his eyes. "Besides, I don't really feel like figuring out the exchange rate."  
  
"Oh, right." Stacy had forgotten that neither of them usually had more than a couple of American dollars during foreign trips, only credit cards. "Well, thanks. That's really sweet of you."  
  
Randy's mouth curled into a half-smirk. "I'm just that kinda guy."  
  
Stacy imitated the smirk, about to bring her free hand toward the front when she felt something else. "Oh!" She grabbed a hold of it and placed the item - a CD wallet - on her lap. "Yay, I almost forgot I brought this!"  
  
"Didn't you spring for satellite radio for the car?"  
  
There was a skeptical quality to Randy's voice that prompted Stacy to peep up from her perusing, brow arched. "Yeah, and?"  
  
He frowned. "I know the kind of music you like, Stacy."  
  
At this, she laughed. "C'mon, Randy, don't tell me you don't like Madonna."  
  
This time, he snorted. "Yeah, when I was twelve and she had that sex book out."  
  
"Jesus, Randy." Not that he expected a different sort of response, but he didn't have to be so cynical about it. "I'll put in a mix CD, it's got a little of everything."  
  
"A little of everything that sucks?"  
  
They'd had this sort of disagreement before. Once, it led to a rather nasty confrontation wherein they refused to talk to each other for the rest of the day. Now, of course, they knew better than to take things personally, but damn if Randy didn't test her buttons every so often. "Oh, and what would you play then?"  
  
"ACDC, Zeppelin, Ozzy--"  
  
"Too hard for a morning drive, Randy." She finally found her mix CD and popped it into the player. "God, that'd be torture."  
  
Randy shook his head, his eyes then widening with something akin to horror as the first song started up. It was obviously familiar to him, or it wouldn't have provoked such a strong reaction. "Oh -God-, and this isn't torture?!"  
  
Stacy had to laugh at Randy's troubled expression. He reminded her of Lucille Ball in a way - very animated, almost elastic features. However, it didn't stop her from singing along. "I got a new life, you would hardly recognize me, I'm so glad, how can a person like me care for yo-ou!"  
  
"I can't believe you like this," he grumbled, arms crossed. "I can't believe these people existed!"  
  
The funniest thing about this situation was the fact that he wasn't doing anything to stop the music from playing - nor could he. When they fleshed things out from their argument, they agreed that whoever had control of the wheel had control of the CD player. They had also agreed never to chuck the other's CD out the window, no matter how offensive the music was to their personal tastes.  
  
That was her favorite Britney CD, too.  
  
"You're dancing like a muppet."  
  
She had been moving her hips in her seat, arms bent over her head despite being the one driving, but the comment stopped her. "Huh?"  
  
"Seriously, you're dancing like Grover!"  
  
Rather than feel insulted, her hands found themselves back on the steering wheel as Stacy tilted her head in thought. "Which one's Grover again? He was blue, right?"  
  
"One of the blue ones, yeah. Skinny and blue. He was a waiter sometimes. And a superhero. He talked like this." Randy cleared his throat and spoke as though he was gargling marbles. "Hel-lo everybody, this is your old pal--" He then coughed from the tension placed on his voice. "Okay, never mind, I can't do it."  
  
"It's okay," Stacy said, giggling. "I wouldn't want you to strain yourself."  
  
"I wouldn't want you to strain yourself," Randy repeated, his tone mocking as he rolled his eyes. "You were still dancing funny. Your butt was bouncing on the seat."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Eh, forget it." Another hand wave. "Can you change the song?"  
  
Stacy shrugged and did so; she still couldn't understand what was so odd about chair-dancing, but then, Randy had a habit of not explaining things she didn't understand.  
  
"Oh God, Bryan Adams?"  
  
She then instantly perked up when she realized that, indeed, it was Bryan Adams on the next track. "Well, we are in Canada." Her shoulders rolled back and forth as she kept her hands at ten and two. "I got my first real six-string, bought it at the--"  
  
"I thought it was 'sex dream'."  
  
Stacy nearly choked on the next verse. "No, six-string!"  
  
"Yeah?" Randy soured his lips. "Damn. The song's not as fun now."  
  
Reading the visible pain on Randy's face, Stacy reluctantly skipped to the next song. "There, you got a problem with Duran Duran?"  
  
Randy raised his shoulders, indifferent. "They had cool videos. That's about it."  
  
"Jesus!" No, she was not about to start another argument, but Randy was testing her patience. Besides, it wasn't as fun to listen to music if the other person didn't join in. "Did you, like, hate ALL popular music in the 80s, Randy?"  
  
"Did you, like, hate all heavy metal in the 80s, Stacy?"  
  
Randy grinned.  
  
Stacy frowned.  
  
"Touché." 


	3. Part 3

According to Mapquest and road signs, they had another thirty miles to go before they reached the arena. Given the speed and the lack of traffic, they would probably arrive within an hour or less. Though, by looking at him, one would think Randy was incapable of lasting that long. If the 80s new wave didn't kill him, surely Jewel would.  
  
Her CD was now halfway through one of her favorite songs, but she had to give him his due; there had been times when she complained about his definition of music when he took charge of the wheel. "Do you want me to play the radio?"  
  
"Yes, please."  
  
Pleased with his gracious tone - had he whined or sobbed relief, she would have played her disc to the very end - Stacy took her CD out and turned on the radio, just as a random DJ segued into the first song of a forty-minute block.  
  
"Oh GOD, NO." Not ten seconds into the song and already Randy was feigning agony. "I HATE this song. Change it!"  
  
Stacy sighed as she tucked her CD wallet behind her seat. "Randy, you never like anything I play, so why don't you try finding something?"  
  
"So you can yell at me later for not following the rules of our deal? No thanks."  
  
"Randy!" Stacy tried to restrain a growl. Tampons or no, this was becoming one of those times where she questioned why she traveled with him at all.  
  
"Why can't you change it," he continued, "do you -like- this song?"  
  
"No, but I'm not changing the station!"  
  
"Fine, I guess we'll have to listen to it, then."  
  
"Fine."  
  
The song was halfway through its first verse since the beginning of their ridiculous argument, and it continued to suck. Still, there was something about its melody, its lyrics, something that made her want to sing along. Stacy chanced a glance at Randy, who appeared to be chancing a glance at her as well. Her mouth twitched and she returned her eyes to the road. Randy was going to make fun of her for this, but she didn't care. She just had to sing.  
  
"They say that the road ain't no place to start a family!"  
  
Stacy didn't know whether or not to be surprised when Randy's voice followed hers just as loudly.  
  
"Right down the line it's been you and me!"  
  
Randy's voice was a total contrast to hers, but it didn't matter. This was a moment in time. From now on, this was their song. In the future, whenever she hears it, she will think of Randy and Canada, and she will laugh.  
  
"And lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be! Oh girl, you staaaaand by me! I'm foreeeeeever yooooours…" Stacy turned to Randy and crossed her hands over her heart. "Faithfully."  
  
"You like that song!"  
  
She smacked Randy's playfully accusing finger with a laugh. "So do you!"  
  
"Yeah, but I make it cool to know things." Randy winked and snuck a brownie from the neglected bag between them. "I'll be good, though."  
  
"Somehow I doubt that." Stacy winked back and all was forgiven. "But thanks."  
  
Stacy drove as Randy flipped through several rock stations, and none of them seemed to play anything what he wanted to hear. Just as he was about to switch channels again, Stacy heard a familiar series of notes and immediately stilled his hand. "Oh, this song!"  
  
Randy's expression twisted into utter repulsion - just as she had predicted. "Don't tell me you like this."  
  
"I don't," she said, grinning. "But it's fun to watch you squirm." The song was approaching its climax, and before Randy could protest her turning up the volume, she belted out with the vocal bravado of Bette Middler. "That I just want you to KNOOOOOW!" She paused for a moment to laugh at Randy's flinching, then picked up where she left off. "To CHANGE who I used to beeeeeee! A REASON to start over neeeeewwww! And the reason is YOOOOOOOOU!"  
  
"This is easily the worst love song in the last ten years."  
  
"And the reason is YOOOOOOU!"  
  
Randy shook his head, incredulous. "This is even worse than those fucking American Idol songs you forced on me last time."  
  
"IF I WAS IN--"  
  
"Don't!" Stacy didn't want to start anything, but it wasn't her fault that Randy was easy to annoy. "You know that movie with the guy holding the boom box over his head, and it's playing some lame ass love song? If that movie was done today, this is the song that guy would use."  
  
She laughed again, knowing which movie he meant and recalling it quite fondly. "I know it's bad, but c'mon, it's -kinda- sweet, don't you think?"  
  
"I don't know. Would you take someone back it they played this song for you? Would you take back Andrew?"  
  
The mention of the name took her by surprise, which Randy seemed to take as a sign that he was treading into the territory of Too Much Information. "Sorry."  
  
"No, no, it's okay." Stacy tried to shake off the abrupt recollection of her break-up with Andrew - something she hadn't thought about for weeks. "Really, it's okay."  
  
The silence returned, but it was an uneasy one. While the radio valiantly attempted to fill the void with its hits of the 80s, 90s, and today, it couldn't shut off the little voice that made her feel absolutely useless. Everyone knew she had broken up with Andrew, but she hadn't really talked about it, not even with her girls - though she supposed it also had to do with the fact that no one had asked about it, either. Again, it was Too Much Information, something personal that the uninvolved did not have to know.  
  
She was tired of keeping quiet about it, though.  
  
"You know, I've only ever been with three guys." Stacy turned off the radio and sneaked a peek at Randy. He was quiet, attentive, and waiting for her to continue. "My first real relationship lasted seven years."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"Yeah… We broke it off some time after I started working for WCW, which is where I met David… and I broke up with David just before I went to the WWE, which is where I met Andrew… And now…" She shrugged. "I feel weird sometimes. Like I don't have anything to give unless I'm with someone, and then I'd be giving myself to that person. At least when I'm in a relationship, it's like I'm contributing to -something-, you know?"  
  
"Hm. So you're like Satan from South Park."  
  
She had to give it to Randy - he certainly knew how to ease the tension. "Whaaat?"  
  
"You are! Satan had this habit of being in love with being in love. When one relationship ended, he began a new one. He's single now, though."  
  
"Really." Stacy averted her gaze, shifting it to her driver's side window. "Does he have a steady job?"  
  
"I'd imagine being the ruler of Hell is a 24/7 one, yeah. But that's the point I'm trying to make. You shouldn't feel like you don't know what to do just because you don't have a boyfriend. That's just silly." Randy smiled and offered her a brownie. "Live for yourself, do your thing. Wear lots of short skirts."  
  
Stacy accepted the proffered brownie with a faint laugh. "And pose for Playboy?"  
  
"Hell yeah pose for Playboy. You ever gonna do it?"  
  
"Maybe." She tossed the brownie into her mouth. "When I decide, I'll let you know."  
  
"Beautiful. But, uh…" He took another brownie, the last brownie, and crushed the now empty bag. "You might have to give up the chocolate for a while if you go for it."  
  
A sigh and a flip of the turn signal. "Yeah, I know."  
  
"Aren't you supposed to be starting the Diva Diet soon, anyway?"  
  
Stacy groaned. She did not want to be reminded of the yearly diet the women imposed on themselves in order to look their supermodel best for the swimsuit issue. "I have my period, okay? I deserve chocolate."  
  
"Oh Stacy, I'm just fucking with you." He chuckled and opened the other bag. "You don't need to diet, anyway. You're skinny enough as it is."  
  
"I'm not toned, though."  
  
"Pfft, do you think guys buying the magazine would care?" Randy's smirk countered her glare. "You're not answering because I'm right."  
  
"Shut up!" A giggle escaped as she tried to wrestle the bag of brownies from his hands; though her eyes were on the road, her appetite were elsewhere. "What about you, you've been neglecting your workout and diet, too!"  
  
"Yeah, but I'm still in shape. So are you."  
  
Then, to her surprise, Randy shoved the bag toward her. Randy wasn't the type to give up so easily, especially where junk food was concerned.  
  
"I just realized…" Randy settled back into his seat, head reclined just above the headrest. "that I don't want to be the victim of your PMS."  
  
"Oh, GOD." Stacy rolled her eyes so hard, she swore she could see into the back of her head. "Aren't you an ANGEL."  
  
"I am," he said, a hilarious sort of seriousness in his tone. "And that's why you love me."  
  
Stacy would've argued with him about the accuracy of that statement, but when she gave it some thought, she found that she couldn't. Despite his quirks and tantrums, Randy was a good friend.  
  
Their friendship couldn't be explained in any way other than 'good', really. She supposed she could think of a number of more descriptive and personal words, yet there was something so comforting about the simplicity of 'good'. There wasn't a number of layers to their relationship, each more complex than the last; they simply enjoyed each other's company.  
  
Stacy turned to Randy and smiled.  
  
"Yeah, that's why."  
  
the end. 


End file.
